


Epic Breakfast in Bed

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up one morning after a drunken evening, the hats find some … interesting remnants of last night’s shenanigans.  ~IRL Hatsome AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epic Breakfast in Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Little cheer-up piece. Prompt from otpprompts.tumblr.com.  
> 

It’s the sunlight that wakens him, glancing through the still-open bedroom blinds and shining directly into his face. He groans mildly and rolls over, desperate to avoid the oncoming hangover headache.

Now he’s lying half on top of Trott, though, and the smaller man is too bony to provide a comfortable mattress. So Ross rolls to his other side and stumbles out of the bed. He’s not particularly surprised to note that Smith hadn’t even made it under the covers, and had instead sprawled over the quilt.

Ross thinks he might do something nice, and heads downstairs to pick up water and advil for each of them.

He didn’t think they’d gotten that drunk last night, but once he enters the kitchen he changes his mind.

There are pancakes. Everywhere.

The cooking oil and the pans are strewn across the stove, and covering all the counter space, even in the sink, are pancakes. It looks like they tried out some dyes: there are rainbow pancakes in the corner by the kettle. And on the right side of the stove, it seems someone took a knife to several in an effort to spell out T-R-O-T-T.

Ross sighs, a touch fondly, a touch exasperated. He reaches for a smallish one on the nearby counter and tastes it tentatively, surprised to realize it doesn’t taste half bad.

“Ross, mate?” Trott’s voice, scratchy from lack of sleep, comes from the staircase.

Ross turns, holding the bitten pancake, and looks up at Trott, who’s still stood on the second-to-last step of the stairs.

“Guess we drank more than I remembered,” Trott laughs, then winces, grabbing his head. “Can you get the aspirin, mate?” he says, voice more subdued.

Ross nods, though Trott can’t see him, and turns to rustle through the cabinet, dropping his pancake on the counter along the way. By the time he’s gotten each of them a glass of water and a painkiller, Trott’s come the rest of the way down the stairs to stand beside him. They both take a moment to down the pills, before turning to each other.

Despite the fact that he just _knows_ Trott will have awful morning breath, Ross leans down toward the shorter man and kisses him gently. Trott’s lips curve against his in a smile, and his mouth opens slightly to admit his tongue.

Yep, that’s awful. But Ross doesn’t pull away quite yet, enjoying this slow early morning kiss.

Trott’s the one who finally pulls back, a small smile on his face. “Are they any good?”

Ross looks away, down at the pancake carnage. “Not bad,” he says.

When Ross turns back to meet Trott’s eyes, he’s met with a mischievous expression. “You get the water and aspirin for Smith, I’ll get the pancakes for epic breakfast in bed.”

Ross nods and turns away to prepare Smith’s water, and soon enough the two are ready. Together they make their way back up the stairs.

Smith has shifted over to take up more space on the bed but appears not to have woken, so Ross and Trott settle in on either side of him. Ross sets the glass down on the bed stand and reaches across Smith’s unconscious form to grab a pancake off the plate in Trott’s hands. Trott smiles back at him, and the two slide back against the headboard, passing the misshapen pancakes back and forth.

When Smith finally wakes, it’s to the bewildering sight of his two best friends and lovers sat on either side of him, sharing the early-morning silence and some pancakes. Before he can speak, Ross hands him a pill and a glass of water. Smith takes both before moving back to rest against the headboard as well, giving Trott an inquisitive look.

“I dunno, mate. I blame you,” Trott says, before handing Smith a green pancake. Smith shrugs and take a bite, feeling Ross move closer to his side. And they sit together in the brightening sunlight on this warm Sunday morning until the familiar siren call of their games carries them downstairs.


End file.
